


The Ants Go Marching

by thatsoccercoach



Series: Which Door? (Fluffy Fraser Fics) [78]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Family, Fluff, and ants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: Lallybroch has ants and Claire is having none of that!
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Which Door? (Fluffy Fraser Fics) [78]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/958905
Comments: 30
Kudos: 82





	The Ants Go Marching

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic written for ages and thought it was posted here. (If I HAVE posted it here already just let me know in a comment and I'll take this down!) I think it is over on Tumblr. Anyway, enjoy reading (or rereading?) some fluff!

_ There are more ants in the kitchen. We need to decide if we’re spraying something or putting out ant traps. We need to decide now! _

She sent the text to Jamie and then smashed four more of the tiny insects onto the smooth surface of the kitchen counter, swept them into her hand, and walked to the back door to throw their little bug carcasses back into their approved habitat. Claire marched back to the counter, grabbing a spray bottle locked under the kitchen sink, and squirted cleaner on the surface, letting it sit a moment before wiping it clean entirely.

Her phone rang and her husband’s name popped up on the screen as she swiped to answer the call.

“Are we overrun wi’ them then?” he burst out as soon as she answered.

“Not ‘overrun’ per se,” she paused. “But Jamie, between the ones I found in Faith’s room the other day, the ones in the kitchen the day before, and these ones now, I feel like we have an ongoing problem.”

She heard muffled noises on the other end of the line and could imagine him dragging his hand over has face and raking his fingers through his hair as he so often did when he was problem-solving.

“I mean, I can’t see where these ones came from,” she lowered her face to counter-top level, eyes hovering even with the flat space. “It’s not like there’s a visible trail.” She shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t see her but doing it out of habit anyway.

“Mph,” he grunted in response. “Do ye suppose we can set out ant traps wi’ out Willa and Fergus tryin’ to eat them? Or should we spray the space? Is that any better? To spray something and then let the bairns crawl around in the space after?” He exhaled a sigh of frustration.

“I’m not sure but we have to do something. There are ants in my  _ kitchen.  _ Oh,  _ honestly!”  _ She smashed another one that was sauntering, if ants could saunter, across the freshly cleaned surface. “Found another one. And I still don’t know where they’re coming from.”

_ This was not the way she had planned to spend her morning while Willa and Fergus napped. Not at all. _

* * *

“I’m home!” came Jamie’s strong voice from the entryway of their house. Faith and Bree scrambled down from the kitchen table where they were eating an afternoon snack and the toddlers began clamoring at the baby gate that barred the doorway from the kitchen.

“Should we let them out, Mama? To say ‘hi’ to Da?” Faith paused at the little gate, blocking Willa with her outstretched leg as if she were an overexcited puppy trying to greet the postman.

“Go ahead and let them out, darling.”

The four wee Frasers barreled down the hall as Claire stood, smile on her face, watching them greet their father with unbridled glee.

“Welcome home, love,” she murmured, reaching out and arm to draw him close and kiss him.

“Mmm, I’m glad to be home wi’ you all. The, ah,” he looked around. “The house smells like...Christmas?”

“Peppermint oil,” she said, succinctly, her tone of voice changing from a wife welcoming her beloved home to her entire demeanor being that of a drill sergeant at boot camp. “It’s supposedly a deterrent to our pests,” she spat out. 

“Ahh,” Jamie nodded, looking around the kitchen as if he’d be able to immediately spot whether the effort had been a success or not.

“Didn’t work,” Claire blurted, turning back to drying the dishes. 

Jamie dunked his hands into the kitchen sink, filled with soap suds and the remaining dishes.

“Ye found more of them since then?” he inquired.

“I have,” she replied coolly, as if he were personally responsible for this reprehensible insect invasion of privacy. “Several more in here, some in Faith’s room and Bree’s room as well now! Jamie, where in the  _ world _ are they coming from?”

“Da?” Bree materialized between them, one arm wrapped around Claire’s legs and the other around Jamie’s as she stood, her own little legs spread, on  _ their  _ feet. “Can Faith and I play outside?”

“Did ye both clear yer dishes from snack?” he prompted.

“We  _ will _ ,” their four-year-old redhead sighed. “But then, Da? Then we can?”

“If ye both stay where yer Mam and I can see ye from the kitchen window and the back door. So, no back garden or beyond the patch of big trees.”

“We know, Da!” they chorused together.

He turned back to face his wife, towel still in her hands, soap suds still on his. “I’ll go to the store before dinner. You think I should try the ant traps first? We can put them on the counter so the bairns canna get them and see if that takes care of the issue.”

“I suppose that’s the best thing to try since the peppermint oil doesn’t seem to deter them. They appear out of nowhere!” she huffed out in exasperation. “There aren’t crumbs that are attracting them, there’s not a trail of ants. They’re just  _ there  _ and I can’t stop them.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he leaned over and planted a kiss in her wild curls that were haphazardly piled atop her head in what was supposed to be a bun. “Ought I to take Faith and Bree wi’ me to the store to get them out of the house for a while?”

She nodded. “Please. They love going to the hardware store with you and it would be helpful to just have Fergus and Willa here.” The toddlers’ attention switched from the sliding glass door where they had their faces pressed, watching their older sisters, to their Mama as soon as she said their names.

“I’ll go get the lasses and head out. We’ll be back soon, Sassenach.” He handed her the last dish, rinsed clean, kissed her soundly, dried his hands, dodged the twins, and finally went to collect Faith and Bree.

“Where are we going, Da?” Faith asked as he buckled her in to the back seat.

“To the hardware store,” he replied with a grin.

“Yeah!” shrieked Bree from her car seat. “Can we look at  _ hammers _ ?” she begged. “When I turn five, I want a hammer!”

Jamie laughed at her excitement. Faith and Brianna loved creating things and the thought that people could build their own things enthralled both girls. Bree had been asking for her own hammer for close to a year now.

He buckled himself in and turned the key in the ignition then drove slowly down the long, packed gravel driveway.

“Aye, we can stop to look at hammers, but we need to buy some ant traps. Yer mam has found ants running ‘round in both yer rooms and the kitchen lately.”

“So  _ that’s  _ where they went.”

He braked a bit too hard and the van lurched to a stop at the end of their driveway.

“What?”

“We saved a whole family, Da!” Bree explained helpfully.

“Mmmhmm,” continued Faith. “We have been rescuing ants all week long, Da. It’s cold out at night so we bring them in, but my ant cup was empty the last couple of mornings.”

“Mine too,” sighed Bree sadly. “But if Mama found them, then they’re safe after all!” She brightened visibly in the rearview mirror as Jamie watched, stupefied.

“So,” he tried to form a coherent and logical question. “Ye have been catching ants in cups-”

“Don’t worry,” Faith said, reassuringly. “We use the plastic ones, not real glass!”

“Oh. Aye. Catching ants in cups and then ye bring them in for the night? All this week?” he interrogated.

“Aaaaall weeeeek loooong,” Brianna affirmed, her little head bobbing as her hands spread to arm width indicating the vast length of time which they’d been “saving” the ants.

He sighed, attempted to muffle his exasperated laughter, and began to turn the van around.

“Da! Why are you turning ‘round?” Faith’s confused voice asked him.

“I think we’ve solved the ant problem already,” he chuckled. “Now we’ve just to tell yer mam where the ants have been coming from.”


End file.
